


Forever

by kickcows



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Falling In Love, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 07:59:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickcows/pseuds/kickcows
Summary: Ichigo sacrifices his life in order to save his sisters from meeting the same fate. Urahara is left alone, missing the man he had grown to love.





	Forever

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written this trope before, so I thought it would be fun to write for Day 4 of UraIchi week. I hope that you will like what I came up with. ^_^ Please enjoy!
> 
> Prompt: Reincarnation AU

* * *

Thunder boomed in the distance, the sky reflecting the feelings of everyone gathered at the gravesite. Urahara stood next to one of his dearest friends, who has lost another member of his family. A member that he himself should have been able to save, but because of poor timing, he didn’t have the chance, and now here they were - burying the one person neither of them wanted to see in this situation.

Everyone had already moved on to the wake, except for the two of them. One mourning the loss of his own son, the other mourning the loss of someone who had stolen his heart without really trying to do so. “Com on, Isshin.” His voice disrupted the silence around them, putting a hand on Isshin’s shoulder. “We should head to the party.”

“Go without me.” Kurosaki Isshin shook his head, and reached into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He knew that this was coming - the man had insisted on smoking in honor of Masaki, so why would it be any different for his only son. “I want to stay here for a bit longer.”

“Isshin-”

“Go, Kisuke. Please.” The doctor, a former Shinigami himself, looked over at him with bloodshot eyes. “Let me grieve Ichigo in my own way.”

“Fine.” Isshin was never made aware of his own relationship with his son, so he wouldn’t be able to mourn his lover the same way someone else might. He had to accept that, and knew it would be better to give Isshin his space now. Urahara would come back later and say his own final goodbyes to the man who had died too young.

He walked across the path, the sound of music drifting toward him as rain continued to pelt his umbrella. He saw a familiar face waiting for him at the entrance of the reception hall, a smile appearing on his face as one of Ichigo’s best friends stood there with a solemn expression on his face.

“I wasn’t aware that news had reached Seireitei.” He lifted his hand, holding it out as a peace offering to Abarai Renji, who wore a sullen look on his face.

The hand that’s offered is neglected, and instead Urahara is greeted with an affectionate embrace. “Damn it, Urahara.” The sadness in his voice made his own gut clench with remorse. “You can blame Yoruichi for informing us, since it seemed you were too busy to bother with it.”

“You and I both know that isn’t why.” He kept his arm around him, continuing to hold the umbrella above his head.

A gruff harumph left the redhead’s mouth. “I know. You have my condolences.”

“Likewise.” Urahara returned, holding him with a little more strength than before. He dropped his arm, and offered him a weak smile. “Who did you bring with you?”

“Everyone.”

He expected as much, but hearing so made his chest feel full. “Then, I suppose it’s time we get things started?”

“After you, old man.” Abarai stood at his side. “Let’s go celebrate that idiot’s life.”

Urahara looked back over his shoulder, but could no longer see the graveyard. He collapsed his umbrella, and put it with the other umbrellas and nodded his head. “Yes, let’s.”  

***

The wake went on until close to two in the morning. Urahara was the last to leave, wanting to have a final moment at the resting place of his dearly departed lover. Everyone had chosen to get drunk at the party, but not him - he had wanted to stay in a sober state of mind to say his final farewell to the most important person in his life.

Clouds no longer graced the sky, giving Karakura Town a moonless sky that shone with millions of stars. He wished that it was still raining, so that it would cover up the tears he knew would be falling soon enough from his own eyes. He’d made it through the entire day without crying once, but he knew that it would be coming to an end soon. The Kurosaki gravestone loomed large, now two bodies occupying it.

He sat down on the wet earth, and tipped his bucket hat back. Gone was the green and white striped hat that he habitually wore, and in its place was an all black bucket hat. He undid the button of his suit jacket, the panels falling open as he leaned back on his right wrist. It took him a few minutes to compose himself, as the reality began to sink in that this was it.

“You really are an idiot.” Urahara whispered, the tears beginning to fall as he thought about their last moments together. The look of serenity that had been on Ichigo’s face when he’d absorbed the deathly blow in order to save his sisters is forever etched into his mind. “It should be me there. Not you.”

Out of all the ways to die, he did not expect that Ichigo would be killed so carelessly by a drunk driver at four in the afternoon. They had often discussed death, and what could happen with Ichigo’s substitute shinigami duties, but it never crossed either of their minds that he might meet his end in the most human ways possible. Walking the girls home from school, and then a car coming the wrong direction came racing towards them. Without hesitating, Ichigo had sacrificed himself for both Karin and Yuzu, Urahara helpless to stop it from happening.

“But you would say that this had been your choice.” Urahara looked up at the sky, and sighed. “I guess it’s better than having to deal with you dying in another way. No, that’s not true.” The tears fell from his eyes. “If only Inoue had been there…” His voice dropped to a whisper, the thought of her fairies being nearby to help Ichigo was a constant ‘what if’ that plagued him daily.

“This happened for a reason.” Laying his hand on the earth, he returned his eyes to the freshly etched name on the Kurosaki gravestone. “I may never know, but at least we had our happiness for a little while.”

They had a few months where the Hollows were quiet, the peace blissful. When there were attacks, they went out together to watch each other’s backs. But in the end, it hadn’t mattered. “Yoruichi said I should be happy for the time that we had. And I am, but when you’ve been around as long as I have, it doesn’t feel like it was enough.”

It was only a blip of time to him, but Urahara cherished it. He stood up, and bowed low from the waist. “I may not come back.” He whispered, a few more tears falling as his bangs fall over his face, his hat tipping down. “I hope you understand. Maybe one day I’ll be strong enough to come and see you. But for now - I think it’s best I continue on with my life.

I love you, Ichigo. Forever.”

He went up to the gravestone, and traced the kanji of his lover’s name with his finger. “Goodbye.” Urahara pressed his forehead against stone, a soft sob leaving his throat as he laid his palm flat.

Something soft rubbed up against his leg, bringing him out of his melancholy. Looking down, he saw his friend at reverted to her old form, the one that Ichigo had been first introduced to when he’d ‘borrowed’ Kuchiki Rukia’s powers. Reaching down, he gave her a pat on her head, smiling when she stretched her front paws out.

“Come on, Yoruichi-san. It’s late. We should go home.” He reached down, and picked her up to be in her arms.

The weight of her feline body in his arms was somehow comforting, as the sadness inside of him seemed to have no end. “He’s a peace, Kisuke.” Her deep feline voice reached his ears, as he kept her in his arms. “It’s more than any of us could ask for.”

“I know.” Urahara nodded his head, as he tried to listen to the voice of reason in his head. “But I miss him.”

“You always will.”

“I know.”

Neither of them said anything else as he walked the both of them back to his shoten. By the time his head hit his pillow, it was close to dawn. And when his eyes closed, he dreamed of his lover who was now gone.

***

“Are you sure about this?” Yoruichi looked at him, skepticism in her eyes. “Kisuke, you don’t know how to speak French.”

“So?” He pulled his fan out, and hid the lower half of his face with it as he snapped it open. “I need to go away. I can’t be here. I will never move on if I stay here.”

His friend nodded her head, her arms crossed over her chest. “But you’ll come back to visit, won’t you? Jinta and Ururu are only going to be able to work here on their own for so long.”

“They’ll have you.” Dressed in a pair of jeans, and a large baggy sweatshirt, he looked nothing like the shopkeeper he used to be. “I need this, Yoruichi. Everyone is grieving in their own way. Let me do it in my own way.”

“You’re not coming back.”

He didn’t bother to correct her, when he knew she knew she was right. “We have phones. Computers. It’ll be for a little while. This place is haunted by his ghost.” He gestured to the shoten, his suitcase resting near his feet. “If Seireitei really needs to get a hold of me, they’ll go through you. So we’ll _have_  to talk, Yoruichi.” He teased, as he picked up his bag. “I have to go. My flight is leaving in a few hours.”

“You’d better come if I need you, Kisuke.” Her strong arms found their way around his neck, Urahara helpless to refuse a bone crushing hug from one of his favorite people. “Take care of yourself. Stay out of trouble.” She rushed her words, speaking close to his ear.

“Likewise, troublemaker.” He returned, hugging her tight. “I’ll see you soon.”

“No, you won’t.”

And like before, he didn’t bother to correct her because she was right. He knew he wouldn’t be back anytime soon, if ever.

***

The town of Cassis was small, and exactly what Urahara was looking for. He set up a small shop in the fishing village, his name becoming a common one among the townsfolk. He became _the_  person you needed to visit in order to catch the best fish in the sea. It might have helped if he’d informed the residents of his background, but becoming somewhat of a celebrity had boosted his ego greatly, and was just what the doctor ordered.

He spent thirty years there, no one ever curious as to why he didn’t age like anyone else. There had been times he wanted someone to ask what his secret was, but no one did. The French didn’t seem to care about that sort of miniscule detail to life. Why should it matter, when it was clear he was in good health. He grew to respect their way of life, adapting to it like a fish out of water.

Life was beginning to move on. He began to think about Ichigo less and less, time healing the wounds that had felt so fresh at one time, but now were a spec on his otherwise colorful life. Summer had arrived in Cassis, with more and more tourists pouring in day after day, his adopted home a popular destination due to the locale, and what the surrounding area had to offer. Summer meant his shop would be bustling soon.

Urahara sat behind the counter, looking over the new goods that had come in when the bell above the door rang. He looked up from the inventory he had been looking at, and felt his heart stop in his chest. A young man - probably closer to eighteen than sixteen, had entered the shop and looked lost. But that wasn’t why his heart had stopped. No, it was because the man bore a striking resemblance to someone that had been dead for thirty years.

“Excuse me, but do you sell lures here?” Urahara felt his heart kickstart in his chest as this person spoke Japanese, his face remaining in a neutral position. He tried not to stare, as the features on this stranger’s face bore such an uncanny resemblance to Ichigo - auburn eyes, defined cheekbones. The only thing that didn’t fit was the hair. It wasn’t that ungodly orange that somehow Masaki and Isshin had blessed him with - no, the hair on this man’s head was ebony in color. “Did you hear me, old man?”

It was surreal. Urahara felt himself reaching for his fan, wanting to snap it in front of his face while he laughed gayly at the comments that his lover had made to him. _He’s not Ichigo_. He was going to say something, when the door opened for a second time, and in strolled a woman who looked very familiar.

“What are you doing in here, Zan?” Again, more Japanese was spoken. She turned towards where he was sitting, and gave him a weak smile. “I’m so sorry, sir. My son came in here thinking that you sold bait.”

Her French was flawless, having switched to it to speak to him. “It’s alright.” He answered her in Japanese, both of them looking at him like he’d grown a third head. “Yes, I do sell lures and bait, and I can sell some to you. Only if you tell me where in Japan you come from?”

“Tsch. This guy! Mom, we can find someone else!” The teen groaned, and shook his head. Even the ‘tsch’ had sounded like a haughty Ichigo. _Am I not safe anywhere from his ghost?_  He kept the smile on his face, not wanting either to worry about him.

The woman approached where he was, keeping a friendly smile on her face. “We’re visiting from Karakura Town.” His eyebrows shot up. “Have you heard of it?? Most people I’ve told have no idea where it is.”

“I’m familiar with it.” Urahara nodded his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Oh! It’s because I haven’t introduced myself yet.” She held out her hand to him. “My name is Suzuki Yuzu.”

“Yuzu…” He shook his head. “Is Suzuki your married name?”

“H-How did you know?” She asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Mom, is he bothering you?” Her son, Zan, returned to her side. “Don’t be a pervert towards her.”

“Zan!”

Urahara felt as if all the blood had moved from his head to his toes in a matter of seconds, feeling like he was staring at a ghost. “It’s alright. Forgive me for this, but was your last name Kurosaki?”

“Yes!” Yuzu nodded her head. “How did you know that?”

“I know your father.” He offered his hand to her, not wanting to tell her how he had been in love with her brother. “Isshin and I go way back.”

The look of sadness that crossed her face told him all he needed to know. “I-It makes me happy to hear that. He’s been dead for five years now.”

“You jerk.” Zan stepped up next to his mother, and put his arm around her. “Come on, Mom. I can find lures somewhere else.”

“I didn’t mean anything by my comment.” Urahara tried to repair the situation, hoping that she would understand. “I wasn’t aware he had passed away. My news from back home is sparse. Please, accept my condolences?”

“I appreciate that, sir.” Yuzu addresses him. “What was your name again?”

“Urahara.” He held his hand out towards her. “Urahara Kisuke. Your father and I, we had quite the history.” _As did your brother and I. And might I say, your son looks a lot like him_. He held his tongue. “You two may take whatever you want, within reason, without any charge.” He offered, a warm smile on his face.

“Can I pick something, Mom?” Zan glared at him, but then softened his expression when he looked at his mother. “Please?”

“Yes, go ahead.” She nodded, then Zan took off to look at his wears. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Urahara.” A polite smile graced his face. “Will you be in town long for your visit?”

Yuzu looked at some of the items for sale, and nodded her head. “We’ll be here for the next three months.”

“Wonderful. You’ll have to let me cook dinner for you one night. I also insist that you let me take you around the area, to places that normal tourists may miss.” He winked, smiling when he heard her laugh. It was different from the childish laugh he had known, but some of the quality had been retained throughout the years.

She shook her head. “I’m afraid only my son is here to enjoy life to its fullest. Both my husband and I are on a working vacation.”

“What are you talking about?” Zan returned to where the two of them are standing, holding two different lures in his hands. “May I have these?”

“You may.” Urahara nodded, his stomach rolling at the smile that appears on Zan’s face. “Your mother and I were discussing how I wish to take the both of you around, but she said she won’t be able to. Would _you_  be up for it, Zan?” There was no way that Yuzu would know that Ichigo’s zanpakuto's name was so close to the name she’d chosen for her son.

Zan looked over at his mother, who nodded her head in approval. “Alright, old man. You sure you’re not going to murder me, or something like that?”

“I would never dream of it.” He shook his head, bowing his head towards the two of them. “Come by my shop tomorrow, first thing in the morning. Yuzu, it has been a pleasure.” He takes her hand, and kisses the back of it. “Zan, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thank you, Urahara-san!” Yuzu bows, and smiles brightly. “Come on, Zan. I’m sure you want to get to the boat.”

“See ya tomorrow!” The older teen waved his hand, then the bell above the door chimed again, leaving Urahara alone.

He stared at the door, still trying to process what had happened. Could it possibly be him? There was no way. It wasn’t possible. Urahara sighed, and went to find his phone. It was time he had a chat with Yoruichi.

***

“When were you going to tell me about Ichigo’s sister?” After exchanging pleasantries with his old friend, he cut right to the chase. “Or, were you hoping that I wasn’t going to find out?”

“How did you know about that?” The shock in her voice told him everything he needed to know. So, she wasn’t planning on telling him. “Kisuke, are you here in town?”

A sharp laugh left his throat. “Hardly. No, I’m still in France. But it would appear that Fate is being her usual cruel self, and brought the Kurosaki clan here to my small, yet humble shop.”

“You’re joking.”

“I am not.” Urahara looked out at the water, and could see the two still making their way down a small pier. “I wish that I was. But you’re avoiding the question - were you going to tell me?”

“I was. When he was older. We’ve been keeping our eye on them.”

He could tolerate that answer, even if it hurt that she was purposefully keeping a secret such as this one from him. “Any sign of his family’s power?”

“There have been glimpses, but any full fledged Quincy, or Shinigami - it doesn’t seem so.” Yoruichi sighed. “Look, Kisuke - don’t do anything stupid. Just because he looks eerily like Ichigo doesn’t mean anything.”

“You know me so well.” He turned away from the window. “I’ll do my best.”

“Kisuke.”

His fingers played with a loose string at the bottom of his shirt. “We both know that his soul wasn’t found in Soul Society, so the possibility-”

“No.”

“From a scientific point of view-”

“Kisuke, don’t make me come out to France.” The anger in her tone forced him to halt his thoughts. “We both know that he could still be in the process of crossing over. It’s not unheard of that it takes years.”

It was true - there had been a few cases where someone died, but had not shown up in Soul Society for many years following. However, Urahara wouldn’t put it past Ichigo’s soul to be that stubborn. He would have been happy to be with the Gotei 13.

He turned back around, and was glad to see boats in his view. “They are here for a few months. What am I supposed to do, Yoruichi? Be miserable the entire time? He looks so much like him. He even _sounds_  like him.”

“Yes. Be miserable. Keep your eye on him, but from a distance.” Yoruichi’s voice softened. “I know this is difficult, Kisuke. But don’t be stupid. He’s not Ichigo.”

Now it was his turn to keep the silence going. “Very well. I’ll call you if anything should happen.”

“Thank you. Now, how have things been otherwise?”

Their conversation continued for a little while longer, Urahara happy to talk to her. At the end of the conversation, they bid each other goodbye, his eyes back on the pier. He knew she was right - this wasn’t Ichigo, but he’d been alive too long to not notice the similarities. _Strong genes. That’s all it is. There’s nothing else to this_. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the feeling that that wasn’t the case.

***

If there had been any thought in his mind that this was Ichigo coming back to haunt him, they all disappeared after spending the morning with Yuzu’s son. He was _nothing_  like Ichigo. Where Ichigo had been reluctant to do anything, Zan was a curious man. He constantly asked him questions about the town, switching back and forth between Japanese, and broken French. Ichigo had never been one to chat too much, and it seemed that Zan didn’t have a stop button.

Exploring had been fun, as much as Urahara was loathe to admit it. It wasn’t that he didn’t have acquaintances in town, but being able to speak Japanese was something he hadn’t realized he had missed. As the week progressed, he found it was easier to see Zan as his own person - even if he did remind him of Ichigo.

At the end of their second week spending time together, the two men had been walking back to town when Zan stopped walking. “Kisuke?” He stopped, his heart jumping at the way his name sounded - again, lingering memories of his dead lover coming back to haunt him. “Can I tell you something? Something that I don’t want you to share with my mom.”

“Of course, Suzuki-san.” He nodded his head, as the two of them moved off the path for a bit more privacy. “Is something the matter?”

“I’m not sure.” Zan sat down on a tree stump, his knee beginning to bounce. “I don’t know who else to talk to about this. You may not be able to help me at all, but-”

“Talking about it might help.” Urahara leaned up against a nearby tree. “Whatever it is, I won’t judge you. You have my word.”

The expression on Zan’s face began to change. “Everything was fine back home. I went to school, got good grades. Nothing out of the ordinary. We’ve been here now a couple of weeks, and the first week - I was fine. But the second week, something changed.”

“Oh?” His eyebrow raised up. “What do you mean, something changed?”

Zan ran a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head back and forth. “I can pinpoint it to when it changed too.” Auburn eyes looked up at him, Urahara’s gut twisting at the look he found there. _No. It’s not him. Stop_.

“When was that?”

“The day we met.”

The twisting in his gut became more pronounced. “Now that is strange.” Urahara hoped that his fright wasn’t apparent in the way he spoke. “What happened?”

“I began to have these dreams.” Their eye contact broke off, Zan turning his head to the side. “Dreams that I….I don’t want to talk about them.”

“There were of me, weren’t they?”

Zan’s head snapped up. “H-How did you know that?”

He walked over to where he sat, and kneeled down in front of him. “What sorts of dreams were they?”

“I told you - I don’t want to talk about them.” He could hear the nervousness in Zan’s voice. “They were just dreams.”

“Were they about someone that looked like yourself?” Urahara hoped he wasn’t going to frighten him by this suggestion. Zan’s mouth dropped open, giving Urahara what he needed to keep going. “He had orange hair, much like your own.” It almost surprises him that Yuzu hadn’t kept any pictures of her brother around, but again - he knew everyone handles grief differently. He ran away to a different country to hide from his own. “Is that right?”

Zan nodded his head, his eyes staying averted from his. “I don’t know who he is, but I know that you were with him, and not how we are now.”

“That’s interesting.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his fan and snapped it open. The look of terror that crossed Zan’s face had him instantly regretting doing it. He had never seen someone jump up so fast. “Zan, wait.” He returned the fan to his pocket, and began to reach for his hand.

“No!” Zan shook his head, as he started to back away from him. “Stop! I don’t know what’s going on!” He grabbed onto his head, and shook it back and forth. “I didn’t ask for this! I wanted to spend my summer back in Karakura Town! This is such bullshit!”

Urahara doesn’t stop him when Zan ran away from him. He couldn’t blame him for wanting to get away, because he also wanted to run away. _Could it really be him?? Is he inside of him right now? Has he come back?_  With a soft sigh, he picked up a rock, and looked up at the rising moon. “What are you playing at?” He addressed no one, wondering what in the world this could all mean Deciding to not dwell on it, he headed back to his small shop. He called it a night, and went to bed.

***

He didn’t expect Zan to return to his shop anytime soon. He understood that he was going to need his space, and was going to need his space. Urahara had, unfortunately, grown to enjoy his company and tried to ignore the hours passing by without a friendly face to keep him company. Steadily over the past two weeks, he saw him less as Ichigo, and more of his own person, who he was beginning to find fascinating.

The bell chimed with someone’s arrival, Urahara putting his items down in the back of the shop to go and see what the customer had come in this time. Business was steadily picking up, but it wasn’t quite there yet. A few more weeks, and he would no longer have the luxury of being able to sit in the back and enjoy the quiet. He walked into the shop proper, and felt his footstep falter.

“Zan.” He said, surprised to see the young man standing in the shop. He looked about the same as he had the night before - a perplexed look on his face, and by his body language alone Urahara could tell he wasn’t that comfortable. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“I didn’t want to come here.” Zan shook his head, as he began to pace. “But, you see  - the dreams keep happening, but they’re not dreams, are they?” A pair of hands come to rest on top of the counter in front of where Urahara was standing. “Kisuke, are they memories? Am I remembering things that have nothing to do with me??”

Trying to think of the best way to have this conversation without breaking this man’s mind further than it seems to be broken, Urahara chose to do what he used to do with Ichigo. “Let me close the shop, and we’ll go have some tea.” He nodded his head towards the back. “There’s a small break area towards the back. Go wait for me there?”

“I’m not going insane, am I?” A palm came to rest on his forearm, Urahara looking down at Zan’s hand. “You’d tell me if I was, wouldn’t you?”

“Go to the back.” He patted the back of his hand. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Says the man that’s over one hundred years old.” The wisecrack has Urahara spinning around so fast that he almost loses his balance. A hand is slapped over Zan’s mouth, his auburn eyes wide with fright. “W-What the hell was that??” He cried, shaking his head.

Urahara walked over to him, and put both of his hands on top of his shoulders. “Go to the back. Will you put some water into the kettle? You’ll find the loose leaf tea next to the electric kettle. Please, Zan?”

“Right. Tea.” He waited for Zan to head to the back before turning back around to go to the front of his shop.  

He put the closed sign up in the window, and drew the blinds. He leaned against the window for a moment, doing his best to collect his thoughts. That comment that Zan had just made, it was something that Ichigo would often tease him about when they had been in bed together, lying naked under the sheets as they enjoyed their post-coitus high together. _I should be given an award to remaining calm_. Gathering what wits he still has a minor grasp on, he turned off the lights and headed to the back.

Zan was pouring the hot water into the pot, seeming a little more relaxed after being given a menial task. Urahara took a seat, and waited for Zan to sit down across from him, as their tea brewed. “Before you tell me about your dreams,” _memories_ , “let me preface this by saying I will not do anything to you, or with you. The person you think you’re seeing is not the same person.”

“What have I been seeing, Kisuke?” Zan asked, as he picked up the tea pot, and began to pour tea for the two of them.

“Are you sure you want me to answer that?” He asked, as he picked up the tea cup and brought it up to his lips. “What if I’m wrong?”

“I doubt you will be.” The smirk on his lips had Urahara holding onto his cup with a little more strength than necessary. Again, it was a look that he would receive often from Ichigo. “So, tell me what you think I’ve been seeing.”

With the water no longer burning hot, he brought the cup up to his lips and took a ginger sip. “You’ve seen me in an intimate manner is my guess.” Urahara leaned back, as he saw a hint of a blush begin to appear on Zan’s cheeks. “Or, you’ve seen me being intimate with a man that  looks exactly like you, but-”

“With orange hair.” Zan reached up, and touched his short hair. “Yeah. My mom said I look a lot like my dead uncle.”

Thankful that he at least knew who Ichigo was, he nodded his head. “It’s uncanny how much you look like him, Zan.”

“You’re right, by the way.” Urahara looked across the table, and saw Zan’s eyes were closed. “You and him - having sex, fighting with swords, against each other and against monsters.”

He almost dropped his cup at the comment. “Hollows.” The sex part hadn’t bothered him as much as the shinigami details. He cleared his throat, blinking away the tears beginning to collect in his eyes. “Your uncle was special - he had a gift to help protect humans from things that they couldn’t see.”

“I see ghosts sometimes.”

The cup slipped at the comment, and before it could shatter, Zan caught it with lightning quick reflexes. “Do you?” He whispered, still processing what he’d just said. “Do you speak to them?”

“No.” Zan sips his tea, his head lowering. “I ignore them. But I think they know that I can see them. Is it because of my uncle?”

“Your grandmother and grandfather were very special people too.” Urahara sighs, hating that Isshin didn’t bother to tell Yuzu about things. All because he didn’t want her to be affected by this other world that normal humans weren’t supposed to know about. “It might be because of them.”

“Do I have to do anything?”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t.”

“What about you and my uncle?” Zan raised his head up to look at him. “You must have cared for him a lot. If these…..what are they, Kisuke? They feel too real to be dreams.”

Closing his eyes, he tried to think of the best way to approach this subject without hurting Zan in any sort of way. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

“What? No way. Shit like that doesn’t exist. I don’t believe in Heaven or Hell either.”

“And yet, you said you see ghosts.” Urahara reminded him, and saw his eyes grow wide at the comment. “So, if you believe in neither of those things, but you know that souls exist, then where do those souls go?”

“I don’t know.” Both set their tea cups down. “Are you saying that my uncle’s soul is inside of my body? I’m not really me??”

This is exactly what he _didn’t_  want Zan to think. He reached over, and put his hand over his, hoping that he wasn’t stepping over his boundaries by doing so. Zan didn’t flinch away, which Urahara took as a good sign. “I’m saying that there is a strong possibility that maybe parts of his soul reside within you, along with your own soul. It’s not unheard of.” He could think of quite a few cases he’d studied back when he was the captain of the 12th division of the Gotei 13.

“So, my attraction towards you isn’t my own? It’s his?”

His eyebrow lifted up at the comment. “Excuse me?”

“I thought it was obvious.” The blush had returned to Zan’s cheeks, his head turned. “When we first met, I thought you were very attractive. And then these dreams began - no, memories. The memories started to come.”

Urahara knew he was walking a fine line right now, and part of his brain was arguing to tread carefully, but the side that had been in mourning was trying to push those thoughts away. “I think that, if it is Ichigo inside of you - he is the one responsible for you being here. Because out of all the places your family could have visited for the summer, why did they choose here?”

“I suggested it.” Their eyes lock, both wide. “But I didn’t know you were here!”

“And _that’s_  why Fate seems to be having a go at both of our lives.” Urahara knew, without a doubt at that moment, that Ichigo was indeed inside of Zan. “You found your way back to me.” He whispered, a few tears slipping from the corner of his right eye.

“Kisuke, I’m scared.” Zan shook his head. “I’m not who you think I am.”

He pulled his hand away, and stood up. “Come with me.” He led him to the back of his residence, and went out the back door to be in a modest backyard. There were two swords leaning up against the wall. “Have you ever fought with a sword before?”

“No?? Who the hell fights like that nowadays?”

“Pick it up.” He grabbed one sword, and moved into a defensive stance. “Pick it up, and come attack me.”

“Are you insane?!”  

He laughed, a full bodied laugh as he threw his head back. “I believe that I am, yes.” He nodded, and was glad when he saw Zan do as he suggested. “Now, attack me.”

“I don’t know about this.”

“Zan, you’re going to have to trust me.”

“You’re insane.”

“You’ve said that twice now.” Urahara smirked, as he dropped his right shoulder back to hold his sword at a better angle. “Now, attack.”

“Your death.”

_We’ll see about that_.

He expected Zan to falter, since he’s never used a sword before. Rather, he hoped he would falter because then this theory that Ichigo had found his way back to him could be put to rest. But as soon as their swords came into contact with one another, he fell into a familiar rhythm with Zan, as they parried back and forth as if it were the most natural dance in the world. By the end of their session, both were sweating and breathing hard from the exertion of their sparring.

Zan looked down at his hand, then back up at Urahara. “H-How…?”

“Because of him.” Urahara put his sword down, and walked over to him. “There’s no other explanation. You should not have been able to keep up with me the way you did - even if you were a novice. Those are moves that only someone who is an expert in using a sword would have.”

The look in Zan’s eyes told him all he needed know. “Kisuke….I don’t want to be someone else.”

“You’re not.” He touched his face, physically aching when he saw his eyes close in the same way that Ichigo’s would. “You’re you, Zan. But there’s no denying that a part of Ichigo is inside of you.”

“I want my feelings to be my own.” Bright auburn eyes stared up at him, as Urahara felt the unmistakable pull as his own head began to lower. “Please, Kisuke. Tell me that my feelings for you are my own, and not his.”

“They are yours, and his. Because you two share something together.” He slid his fingers to rest underneath his ear, as his thumb stroked his cheek. “I never thought I’d feel this way again. When he died, I resolved myself to a life alone.”

“You’re not alone.” Zan turned his head, and pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand. “We’re in this together now, Kisuke.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked, wanting to make it specifically clear. “What if this is Ichigo influencing you?”

“Then he and I are in agreement.” A soft chuckle that sounded so much like Ichigo caused his heart to jump in his chest. “Stop treating me with gloves on, Kisuke. We both know I’ve seen you naked.”

Now it was his turn to blush, as he turned his head away. “That wasn’t you.”

“But it could be.” Another kiss to his palm forced him to bite his lip, stopping a moan from escaping. “Do you want it to be me, Kisuke? _Me_ , and not him?”

Of course he wants it to be him, but he held his tongue. “We’ll see how things go. First, we have to get to know one another.”

“But I know you.”

“You know the former me.” Urahara was quick to correct him. “I’m not that person anymore, just like you are your own person, aside from the memories that Ichigo has so graciously given to you.”

Zan looked up at him, his lips parting slightly. “Does this mean that no matter what happens to me, if I meet the same fate as my uncle, that I’ll find my way again?”

“I want to believe that.” He nodded his head, as he returned to bringing his closer to Zan’s. “And if I die, which is highly unlikely, then I would come and find you. Someway, somehow.”

“Yeah, why do you still look the same?”

Urahara chuckled, and stroked his cheek a little more. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, we have a more pressing matter to discuss.”

“Oh? What’s that, Kis-”

He cut him off from finishing his name, shortening it to the very act he was engaging in. He placed his lips against Zan’s, and felt him return the kiss with a soft sigh, the two of them becoming acquainted with one another for the first time. It wasn’t Ichigo’s lips, but it didn’t matter. These lips he couldn’t wait to get to know, to share more intimate moments with. Urahara knew that this was right.

Pulling his lips away from his, he brought his forehead to rest against Zan’s. “You’re your own person, Zan.” He whispered against his lips, as a soft moan left his throat. “I may have fallen in love with Ichigo before, and yes - a part of him is in you, but I will grow to love you in equal standing. Do you know why?”

“Because we’re soul mates.”

“Correct.”

“Kiss me again, Kisuke? And again, and again?”

“I will, for as long as you want me to.”

“Forever?”

A smile tugged on his lips, as he nodded his head. He knew now that no matter what would happen, Ichigo has proven to him that even death couldn’t keep them apart. With confidence in his voice, he brought his lips back to Zan’s, and whispered against them with as much feeling he could put behind the solitary word. “Forever.”  

 


End file.
